Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 338

Chapter 338: ’Shut The Fuck Up’

"What’s wrong, Your Highness? Your face is suddenly pale." Alaric’s voice was honeyed with false concern, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

Florian’s eyes narrowed sharply, even as his throat tightened. He swallowed hard—again and again. His mouth was beginning to flood with saliva, a warning sign his body couldn’t ignore. The nausea coiled like a viper in his gut, twisting tighter by the second.

’Is... he doing this on purpose? Does he know Heinz and I were there the night the village burned?’ Florian’s thoughts were sharp and fast, barely keeping up with the pounding of his heart. His gaze flicked to Heinz, who hadn’t taken his eyes off him—not Alaric. Heinz didn’t seem worried about what had been said. He was worried about him.

’I have to keep it together.’

He could already feel the judgment in the room—subtle glances from the other dukes, the shift in their posture, the suspicion behind their eyes. He didn’t have time to lose composure.

Luckily, he had prepared for this. Just not like this.

Florian took in a slow breath, grounding himself. He forced his trembling hand to relax, then cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter.

"My apologies," he began, voice soft and strained. "I just felt sick. I’m... sure it’s no secret that I was kidnapped during our trip to the village of Forgotten Waters."

The room stilled, all attention now properly on him.

"Actually..." he continued, the words trickling out with careful control, "one of the rogues helped me escape. His name was Levi."

There was a quiet, collective shift. A few eyes widened.

"Oh my," Elara gasped, one gloved hand rising to her lips. "Was?"

Florian nodded, his expression dimming. No matter how much time passed, no matter how much progress he made, he would never forget Levi.

"Levi sacrificed his life to save me. His body..." His voice cracked, and he covered his mouth again. The memory surged—red, broken, vivid. "It was mutilated in front of me. One of my captors had some kind of... twisted branch magic."

A few gasps echoed through the room. Even Roland looked visibly stricken. Elara’s expression melted into sympathy. Cedric leaned forward with furrowed brows.

Alexandrius scoffed, uninterested and unmoved.

But Alaric—he no longer wore that smile.

"I... one of the captured rogues we brought back to the palace mentioned that Levi was from the village of Forgotten Waters. He had a sick sister. And still... still he chose to sacrifice himself for me."

By now, the sickness in Florian’s stomach was beginning to settle. The tremors had dulled. The pain in his chest remained, but it was something he could use now. Something real. Sincere.

And in the silence of the court, Florian took control of it.

"That was when I decided," he said firmly, eyes scanning the table, meeting each of the dukes’ eyes, "that I wanted to help other villages—ones that might be like Forgotten Waters. That’s why I approached His Majesty with my ideas, and why I’m here today, sharing them with all of you."

He paused, breathing steadily now. "And to think... that village had resorted to cannibalism. And it burned down."

’I still wonder where the survivors are... Heinz said he doesn’t know, or maybe... he just doesn’t want to tell me.’

"It breaks my heart," he said, voice full and unwavering now. "But it also fills me with motivation. With purpose. With confidence in what I’m proposing to all of you."

He straightened, shoulders squared. The tears that had once prickled in his eyes were gone, replaced by steel. There was no more room for panic. Only resolve.

Because, truly, at the core of all this...

He was doing it for Levi.For Leila.For every forgotten soul rotting in a neglected village, waiting to be saved by a king who never came.

"And?" Alaric’s voice cut through the emotion like a blade—sharp and dismissive. He leaned back in his chair with folded arms and a raised brow. "What is your plan, Your Highness? Because we have years—decades—of neglect to fix. Not just in Obsidian Summit, but across all the dukedoms."

The other dukes watched, silent but expectant. This was it. The moment they had all waited for—not from Florian, but from the crown. For so long, they had depended on the king to lead the charge, to take the responsibility. Now it was Florian standing in that position.

And they would judge him.

By the standard of the previous king.

A man beloved... but devious.

Florian exhaled, slow and sure.

"First," he began clearly, "for the villages in poverty—those with crumbling houses, with broken roofs and dirt floors—for them, we will begin constructing new housing. Safe, warm, livable homes."

’Hmm. And here I thought Cedric was okay.’ Florian thought, lips tightening as he stared at the laughing dukes, his face an impassive mask hiding the slow simmer of indignation rising in his chest.

"Your Highness, forgive me," Cedric said after a pause, clearly trying to regain composure, "but when you said in your proposal that you wanted to help, I was under the assumption you were going to give proper solutions."

"I told you all," Alexandrius drawled, "this prince is just playing games. He’s not even in his twenties yet."

"That’s correct," Florian replied, now visibly annoyed. His voice held no stammer, no sign of faltering. "I’m not even in my twenties yet, but at least I have the decency—unlike you family men—not to laugh at others while they’re presenting. You didn’t even give me the basic respect of listening to my explanation first."

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